


Panties and Panting

by TheMockingCrows



Series: Fetishistic Fashions [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crossdressing, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingCrows/pseuds/TheMockingCrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing John Egbert expected from his friend at ten pm on a Monday night was a series of text messages that sounded like something out of a bad sexting commercial. There was no way he would know that his Monday would come to a close in a skirt, spent between his best friends thighs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Panties and Panting

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to this fiction is located here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/494525

The last thing John Egbert expected from his friend at ten pm on a Monday night was a series of text messages that sounded like something out of a bad sexting commercial.

 

[TG]: hey  
[TG]: whatre you wearing right now

 

“Wow, Dave, way to sound like a cheesy porno opener. Lame.” John clucked his tongue, tutting the failed attempt by his friend to rile him up. He might have given the sarcastic reply more thought at any other time, but damn it, he’d been watching a comedian he enjoyed and the sudden buzzing made him miss the best line. George Carlin would never not be funny.

 

[EB]: whoa dave, what, all out of original lines?  
[EB]: or are you seriously wanting me to describe these sexy as fuck sweatpants?  
[EB]: they’re pretty kinky, dude! got a drawstring and everything, with a knot in the middle.  
[EB]: gotta keep myself all tied in so the sexy doesn’t get out and hurt someone unsuspecting.

 

The show had gotten to a point he knew backwards and forwards, but didn’t really find too funny to actually stare at. Normally, there were expressions to look at and absorb, heightening the experience, but not so much on this bit. Phone in hand, John rose from the couch to rummage around for a snack, sticking his head into the fridge. Hmn. Maybe some leftovers would do good for a snack, if he heated it up and put it on a sandwich..? Another hard buzz caught his attention, making him look down. Then double take.

 

[TG]: im just asking because im wearing a skirt  
[TG]: and stockings  
[TG]: and a damn fine blouse  
[TG]: thought you might want to see and be amazed

 

Oh, fuck, Dave. Seriously? Why was he playing a game like this so late at night? There wasn’t even the threat of alcohol to make him tease like that, no probability that he’d had a few shots with his brother. Bro only brought out the whiskey on the weekends, when school wouldn’t get in the way of a possible hangover. As much as he dicked around like a teenager with Dave, he never let him do anything that would wreck him for school, wanting him to get decent marks. With his business, college money wasn’t an issue, but it was very important to the elder Strider to instill in him a sense of pride that he had worked for something instead of just having it handed to him. Hell, that was half the reason they lived as they did. So neither of them would ever take a single dime for granted.

But a Monday? A dress? What would make him suddenly start this..?

 

[EB]: so, you’re wearing a dress?  
[EB]: uh. sorry, dave, but i’ve got to call bullshit on that!  
[EB]: you know the saying. pics or it didn’t happen.

 

“That ought to tea- oh what the crap!” John sighed in irritation as his phone immediately buzzed again. Dave was a fast texter to be sure, obviously ready to drown everyone in red miles of text on Pesterchum and, frankly, any chat client he could get hold of someone on. This was sent fast enough, however, that either Dave hadn’t read what he sent, or he was waiting at the ready to hit send like a wise ass. Oh. Hey. A picture file.

More precisely, a picture file labeled ‘chu.jpg’. Flashing, and ready for him to accept. There was the chance to type to him, ask what it was, refuse to open it. Then there was the curiosity, being home alone at ten o’ clock on a Monday night. Without question, John accepted the file transfer, and opened it, expecting a gag picture or Dave wearing something stupid over his jeans and t-shirt. 

He was not prepared for this.

The world was not prepared for it.

Nothing in any universe was prepared for the image of Dave Strider that John now held in his shaking hand. It was tasteful, the dress a deep red with black and white accents, black lace and white buttons. Dark stockings with filigree cutout designs made use of his pale skin, the trailing ivy and rose motif showing up in stark white. It was in a hipster angle, taken in front of a bathroom mirror with the skirt hiked high up the thigh to show proof, all ruffles and lace. There were usually accessories with outfits like that, though none but the stockings were on in this picture. What was this fashion style called. Flustered, John finally was able to recall the short explanation Rose had given him on the subject.

Lolita.

Dave Strider was wearing, at some point, honest to God Lolita. …and looked amazing in it. 

John bit at his lower lip, slowly closing the refrigerator door and leaning back against it, letting himself slide down it to the floor. Oh, God, he looked amazing. For some reason, all of his sharp angles, his thin limbs, seemed to work with the soft edges of the dress itself. Accenting them. Making him glow.

He startled when the phone vibrated again, signaling the incoming text message.

 

[TG]: so  
[TG]: what do you think  
[TG]: am I pretty yet

 

Oh, Christ, he was more than pretty. Dave was, in effect, the loveliest thing he’d ever seen in a dress. He found himself wondering what it looked like when he walked, how the skirt would move, how the folds would stretch and sway with the motion of his hips. He wondered what he’d look like with those heart stopping red eyes showing, nearly the same shade as the fabric, how he’d look with a pout on his lips. He started wondering what he was wearing underneath the dress.

 

[EB]: pretty? uh, yeah, I guess so.  
[EB]: i hope you understand that i’m pretty surprised!  
[EB]: you look really, really, really good in a skirt!  
[TG]: really  
[EB]: yeah! did someone help you into it, or was it just for fun?  
[TG]: what  
[EB]: well, who owns it? where are you at that you could get at that?  
[TG]: its one of mine

 

One of his. Oh. Christ. He had more, and it was his, and this was apparently a common thing. ... Hmn. John was home alone, at ten pm on a Monday night. Why not stick his neck out a bit? Cheeks growing warm, he tapped away a reply.

 

[EB]: one of yours, huh? should have guessed, what with all the red.  
[EB]: hmn. yeah, i’ve got to see this up close, dude!  
[EB]: any chance you can come by with that? i’ve never seen lolita up close before.

 

Pass it off as casual curiosity, enjoy his presence, beat off in the bathroom like a guilty middle schooler, then continue on as normal.

 

[TG]: you know it dude  
[TG]: ill bring some for you too  
[TG]: see you in fifteen or so

 

Some.. for.. you. What. What? What?! Moaning between his teeth, John dropped the phone to the floor, hands settling against his cheeks. Thin fingers slid beneath his glasses, rubbing hard at his eyes, feeling the pangs of anxiety starting to gnaw at him. Dave. In a dress. In his home. Alone with him. With the apparent desire of making him cross dress as well. This was..

Way too good to be true. Way, way, way too good to be true. It was a strange kink for him, but also not. The idea of wearing feminine clothing had appealed to him for ages, even as a child, playing dress up with some of his Nana’s old clothes. He would wear them evenly, the dresses and his fathers oversized hats and suits and ties, tromping around the house proudly in the strange combinations he made. As he grew older, however, his father had been unsure of how to handle it. Had slowly begun to tuck away Nana’s clothing into the attic, and leave more hats and suits around, wanting to break him of his delight in the frilly objects.

Now, all at once, there was a chance to try it on his own terms. To feel the breeze on his thighs, and the cling of nylon or soft cotton on his calves. Maybe he’d look pretty. Maybe he’d be able to look at himself and feel the same thrill he did when he looked at Dave in that picture.. and maybe he could get him to feel the same thing in turn.

Dave had said he would arrive in about fifteen minutes. That gave John time to panic a bit on his own, and get the snack he wanted, pulling out a second can of soda to join his own as he tried to decide on what to eat on the shorter time limit. There were strawberries, which sounded delicious, but his father planned on using them on some cakes tomorrow. Some of them had already been placed on small cheesecakes, alternated with sweet raspberries dusted with powdered sugar. While not liking baked goods all that much.. cheesecake was, admittedly, a special treat, more custard than Batter Witch.

Still caught up in selecting a snack, head tucked into the fridge, he heard his abandoned phone buzz and skitter restlessly on the floor. With a toe, he touched the screen, squinting to look at the text while he bent to pick it up properly.

 

[TG]: hey im coming up to the door in a second but my hands are gonna be full  
[TG]: help a bro out and get the door  
[EB]: oh! yeah, sure, i’ll be right there. hold up and I’ll let you right in.

 

Even as he was hitting send, he was jogging through to the front door, dark grey sweats baggy at his knees, sagging around his feet. Dave was already heading up the stairs from his truck, two large plastic bags in hand. John tried to hide his disappointment in the fact that Dave was dressed normally, a baggy t-shirt from some band nobody had ever really heard of, worn jeans that were giving out at the knees. The blonde remembered enough to slip out of his shoes at the door, feet bare inside his sneakers, toes gripping the carpet as he made his way to the couch with his burden.

“So,” he said.

“…So.”

“You wanna watch a movie or somethin’ first, or should we get to the fun part?” With a grin, the awkwardness melted away, John immediately moving to sit down next to him with an eager nod.

“That picture you sent.. It’s really your dress?”

“Yeah, man. All mine. Picked it out, bought it, had Bro help me adjust i-“

“Wait, wait, wait, your BROTHER knows about this?!” The very idea that this wasn’t something secret and private, and apparently completely okay with a family member, was mind blowing.

“Well. Yeah. Why wouldn’t he?”

“He’s okay with you cross dressing?”

“I say again: why wouldn’t he be?” The blonde frowned, canting his head his friends direction. “He’s pretty chill about things, and understands I like it. It’s just a thing that is, and it’s not stoppin’ anytime soon, so he helps me. See, I can’t sew to save my ass. He’s teachin’ me, though, so maybe someday I can make my own things instead of payin’ out the nose for the larger sizes.”

Oh man. Oh, God, oh man. He was serious. The way Dave was talking so casually about cross dressing, designing his own clothes, apparently bonding over them with family was making John feel.. jealous. Horribly jealous. There was no way he could ever have that with his Father, lover of the mundane, thriller of the boring. A wild night for his dad was adding a scoop of regular coffee into the decaf. His eyebrows knit, focus straying down to the bags wistfully.

“…Hey. John. You remember how I said I brought an outfit for you?”

“U-uh.. yeah. Yeah, I do. Why?”

“How about we try it on you, see if my eye’s as good as I think it is.” One of the bags was lifted up onto his lap, hands burrowing into it to find a few specific items. “I mean, I bought this one for you.”

“Wha- for me? When? Why? What if I wasn’t interested in this at all? W-what if I’m not interested now already?!” He was panicking, running away, curling up on himself in terror. No. This wasn’t normal. He shouldn’t do this, what about his dad? What would people say? How did Dave know? Did he just exude some substance that labeled him as different?

“Well.. Originally, I bought it because it was about the same shade as your eyes. I got it for me, first professional thing I ever bought from an actual store. Bitch of it was, though, that it didn’t fit me. I was too embarrassed to return it for a refund, so I kept it. Thought maybe I’d throw it at you as a Halloween thing, or for a prank, since I was pretty sure you wouldn’t be interested in it like me.” 

There was no further addressing him being interested or not, as Dave pulled out the first of a few items, nearly stopping John’s heart. One part was the skirt, deflated without its underskirt, a bright shade of blue that caught the eye in soft waves. Terrified of how much he actually wanted this, John reached his hand out, touching the fabric, marveling at how soft it was. How it ran through his fingers, despite his shaking. When Dave handed it to him, let him hold it on his own, he damn near choked.

He wanted this dress. NEEDED this. At least for now, when he was alone, with someone who wasn’t going to make fun of him. Needed this chance.

“Dave.. I. Uhmm.. Can you, uh..?”

“Stand up and get naked, dude. Boxers won’t work with this skirt, and I brought you somethin’ better that matches.”

“…O-okay.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get dressed too, okay? We can do this together. Just the two of us. We’ll make a night of it with all the bells and whistles.” The way Dave’s usually stoic face was glowing gave John the hint that, while his brother had no problem with the way he dressed or acted or thought, it was still quite a huge difference between having someone to actually dress up with. 

All the bells and whistles turned out not just to be the clothing. Dave laid out the entirety of John’s outfit for him to see and change into in order: a blouse and matching skirt with underskirts, a pair of silky panties with obscenely large frills on the sides, and blue striped thigh high stockings. The bottom of the bag, still clunky, held a bottle of blue nail polish in the same shade as the dress and a few barrettes. Dave’s bag held the outfit he’d been photographed in, red nail polish and some similar barrettes. They wouldn’t need shoes inside, and frankly, the sight of his toes being hidden behind the sheer cloth was a far more fun sounding prospect than having them hidden away.

As requested, John removed his shirt and sweatpants, leaving his boxers on to stare at the delicate items, unsure of how to proceed. Not sure how to touch them without wrecking them, or tearing them in half somehow. No, it couldn’t be that hard. Mid-reach to the underskirt, Dave made a noise to get his attention.

“No, man, you gotta go in order from undermost outward. Like this. See? Underoos and stockings first, so you can actually reach them better, without all the other stuff getting’ in the way.” The blonde gestured down at himself, at the black panties with dark lace that hung low on his hips, fit snug and secure with the lace draping downward like small wings. The stockings were expertly pulled up slender legs, shapely, defining them more. Despite the automatic fascination, the desire to touch and taste and look.. the longer John looked, the stronger another desire was beginning to feel. Hissing a breath between his teeth, he shook his head.

“I don’t think I can, Dave, not yet. I need a little bit of time.”

“If you’re hard, just do it anyway. It feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“…..You’ve..?”

“A lot.”

“..Was it better?”

“You haven’t lived till you’ve had to position an erection in panties like this. Trust me.”

He was dizzy, heart hammering as he bent and tugged down his boxers, standing exposed while he reached for the panties. As Dave had said, there was never anything quite like it, feeling the satiny material stretch over the head and shaft. His skin felt like it was on fire, cock burning like a brand against the cool cloth and his own flesh. There was adjusting for comfort. Adjusting for fit against the tension, refitting the bulge where it wouldn’t rip anything by laying it up against his stomach. Then, adjusting just because it felt good. 

The thigh highs were pulled out with another restrained moan, sitting on the couch to pull them up. While nowhere near as defined as Dave’s legs, they still took on a very pleasing pattern of stretched stripes and adjusted bands of color, nestling to a stop in the middle of his thigh.

“Go ahead and take a few steps, feel the difference.” Dave was still watching, a small smile curling his lips in amusement, arms crossed. The smile grew as he watched his friend take hesitant steps forward, nearly moaning when he felt his thighs slip against each other, the fabric of the stockings and panties cradling him in a totally foreign way. Only when his face had gone deep pink, when he’d opened his mouth to pant softly, did Dave hold up the skirt and underskirt. With practiced hands, he slipped it upwards onto John’s hips, helping him shimmy the layers up in an awkward little dance. Smoothed them downwards to get rid of possible wrinkles before slowly drawing away to get his own skirt up. 

John pulled on the top, turning to get help with the zipper, grinning when it was snug. Slowly, the grin was replaced with terror as he turned to look at his friends face, the swish of fabric at his hips startling him. All nerves and panic and exhilaration, he suddenly found himself unable to handle it, unable to handle seeing himself. What if it wasn’t nearly as good as he imagined? It was a turning point for him. To see himself in a dress would be the beginning of something for John. Either he would look awful in it, hate it, and never want to try again out of embarrassment.. or he’d love it as much as he already knew he would, and never be able to live without it again.

“Dave. Dave! Do I-“

“I’m not answerin’ that.”

“Why? I was going to ask if I-“

“I already know what you were gonna ask, and I’m sayin’ I can’t answer that. Not till we’re done with ya. Gotta get your nails and hair fixed.. then I can show you and you can judge for yourself, okay?”

Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, John sat numbly on the couch, watching Dave get dressed as he resisted the urge to gawk and stare at himself. His body coiled and curled into the sleeves and hollows, filled out the skirt and blouse, skin tight over his hips. It was arousing, sexy, yet somehow still so.. Dave. The dress wasn’t changing who he was. If anything, it was making him look twice as alive as usual, creamy complexion taking on its own excited pink tint. Fully dressed, he easily dropped into a skirt safe crouch and picked up the nail polish, gesturing for John to hold out his hands. 

With pampering care, two coats of blue were applied to each nail, perfect and glossy and smooth.

“Hey.. Dave?”

“Mn?”

“How long have you done stuff like this..? I mean, you’re awfully good at it.”

“I started painting my nails when I was ten. I started sneaking around wearing panties and knee highs and stuff around the same age. By the time I was fifteen, Bro already found me out and was letting me pick a few things from the store to wear around the house.”

“Around the house?”

He grimaced slightly, eyebrows knit, before he gave a non-committal shrug. “Not everyone is as ready to deal with a boy in a dress as they should be.”

“Oh..”

“Lucky on my part now, though.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I got to introduce you to this, in a way that nobody else ever needs to find out about if you don’t want, where I got to see.”

“…Uh..?”

“You’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you like this, man. I’ll.. admit. It’s been somethin’ of a fantasy of mine. Seein’ you dressed up like this. Bein’ dressed with you, and just hangin’ out. …Well. Mostly just hangin’ out.”

“…Mostly?” He couldn’t possibly mean that. Could he? True, they’d tap danced around the subject for years now, ever since John had told him he felt attraction for men a bit more than women. Several attempts, unnamed as such, had been made to go on dates.. but they always ended awkwardly. Neither of them wanting to outright say it had been a date, neither of them sure if they should proceed even to hand holding. 

This evening already had been more intimate than any of their not-dates/bro bonding days. They were both dressed to the nines in frilly dresses, nails painted. Dave began moving once more as he spoke, shaking his hands to get rid of the last tacky touches of his nails, letting them dry hard. Thank God for quick dry enamel, for antsy people like him. He picked up the barrettes from John’s bag and crossed in front of him, crouching slightly to finger comb his dark hair to the side. The clips were slid into place, small clouds with blue smiley faces, a yellow zodiac sun with happy eyes, all weather related and matching, coordinated. 

“Yeah. I’m lovin’ this, seriously. It’s somethin’ I’ve wanted forever, and it’s actually happenin’. “

“You said ‘mostly’ just hanging out. What else?”

“…Well.” It was the blondes turn to blush dark then, head tipping down as he turned to get into his own bag, clipping his hair to the side with barrettes decorated with spades and hearts. “..Like I said, it was a fantasy, so don’t flip your shit.”

“Dude, tell me! Don’t just leave me hanging here!” 

“I.. guess I always wanted to see you dressed like this. I wanted to feel you in it. I just wanted you to be in it.”

“I am in it.”

“For the love of- John, for fucks sake, I've had daydreams about us goin' at it dressed up like this!” It was shouted, loud enough that had his father even been just outside the door he’d have heard every syllable. Shutting his mouth tight, he reached up and removed his shades, red eyes glassy with a few layers of emotions and thought. On one hand, half of his fantasy of God knows how long was already coming true. On the other, he’d just blurted a potentially fatal-to-friendship line. 

Yet, John was not immediately freaked out, or angry, or even really reacting at all. The thought of trying something with his (possible boy)friend had crossed his own mind dozens of times, easily becoming his favorite daydream, though not something he was quite ready to pursue yet. Not as far as his imagination had taken things, at least, naked and spent in any given order or position of the day. Instead, he was intrigued. He had broken so many boundaries today, so many impediments on himself and his own enjoyment, that he was feeling drunk with freedom. Nothing could stop him.

“…Is that a bad thing?” It wasn’t so much an invitation as a test of the waters, pushing himself up off the couch to stand. With careful movements, reverent, he lifted the edges of the skirt and did a quick twirl, letting it puff out more before he stopped. Smiled and cocked his head. “Hey. Dave. What do you think? Am I pretty yet?”

Mouth gone dry, Dave stooped to grab his cellphone from his pants, holding it up to indicate he was going to take a picture, silently asking permission. Unsure what to do, John planted his hands on his hips, striking what he hoped was a decent pose. At the slow whistle, he grew more daring, lifting the skirt as he saucily stuck a leg out. More sounds indicating taken pictures as Dave began to prowl, circling him slowly, indicating the best ways for him to move. 

A natural, the photos began getting a little more risqué as the impromptu shoot continued. A turn to display the back of the panties, a look over the shoulder, a toss of the head. He lost himself, body beginning to coil and curl of its own volition, becoming riskier, sinking back on the couch and lifting the skirt to display what lay beneath, knees bent shyly at first. Then, as he arched his back and allowed his legs to spread, on full display. Dave was attentive, following his motions, trying to find the best angle and light as he moved in the awkward dance around him, clicking away. John was the one leading this show now. 

Never was that more clear than when he rose, walked forward three steps, grabbed his best friend around the waist, and yanked him into a kiss. I was rough and messy and awkward, misaimed and staggering as they nearly fell, feet slick in their stockings. All nerves and heat and abandoned responsibility, John began tugging him backwards towards the couch, turning slightly to force his weight on him against the cushions. Dave may have started this, unleashed the fire that had been simmering for years, but it was now John who was fanning the flames higher. 

The phone clacked onto the floor beside the couch, forgotten, ignored. They were struggling, trying to find a way to get closer to each other, trying to find a good way to act on the vague notion going through their minds, the primal urge of More. Now. Yes. Good.

Given that he was already flat out on the couch, Dave pushed up to prop onto his elbows, spreading his legs for the other to settle between. John pawed his skirt up without breaking the kiss aside from frantic stolen breaths, lifting his own as he sank back down. Slim fingers reached behind his head and latched on, slender legs lifting to curl around his waist, feet locking tightly in place. Drawing him closer. There was hesitation as they moaned, pained, unsure what to do to avoid exploding. Imploding. Bursting into confetti and fire and God knows what else. 

John shivered, laying still aside from the wet kisses they were exchanging, hips frozen in place. Hello, Dave’s boner. How are you today? He was aware of himself. Very aware of the cloth straining around his aching cock, a bead of pre-come sliding against his own stomach from the organ being bent upright earlier. Then there was the fact that Dave was in the exact same predicament, thighs shaking in their stockings, wrapped tight around his hips. Experimentally, he pulled away from the kiss to shift his hips forward. Testing. When the reply was a gasp, a low moan, and a shameless rut in return, there was no point in observing anything.

Not yet.

There might be time for that later.

For now there was only the blonde lurching his hips beneath him in a steady, persistent rhythm. The feeling of lace and soft cotton bunching around his waist, red eyes looking up at him glazed with lust, thin lips pouting in a way that had to be illegal. Sinking down again, chest to chest, John began doing what felt right: moving in time with the ball of nerves and heat beneath him. 

“F-fuck.. John, hurry up.” The shifting grew more urgent, red tipped fingers moving down to clutch at blue clad shoulders. Apparently, he was as far gone as John himself by that point, unable to keep himself still. A sudden completion of a fantasy was unfolding. There would be time for going slow later, more time to explore and experiment. For now.. Well. Who knew when they’d ever get this again?

Groaning, he re-caught Dave’s mouth to quiet him, hips starting a frantic pace. They rocked and rolled, couch creaking, Dave arching his back and making the most erotic noises he’d ever heard, too caught up in hormones and excitement to care. Small whimpers and gasps, moans and sighs. When he grew quieter, focusing on the sensations, John decided to up the ante. Those sounds were by far the best thing ever, as far as he was concerned, and thus there would be more of them. It was simply a thing that was going to happen.

Blue tipped fingers slid down his sides, gripped his hips beneath the dark fabric and tugged him close, lifted him upwards a few inches to increase the amount of pressure and friction being subjected. John felt the hem of the panties, teased beneath it, felt along the others inner thigh where it was pressed close against his own body. This.. was definitely not something he ever would have experienced with a girl. Not in a million years. Never would he want to trade a woman in the same outfit for the man pinned beneath him. 

They flipped positions twice, Dave flipping him onto the floor to straddle him, riding like pro until the particular bronco he was busting fought back. More shifting, more stolen kisses, playful struggles and wrestling as they fought for dominance. Trying to figure out who went where, who lifted the skirts, what would feel best in this limited pool of knowledge. There were moments of hair tugging, barrettes being caught by wrists accidentally. 

Two incidents of slipping and sliding, trying to move around. 

The final position was, by far, the most enjoyable they’d managed. Dave ceded when John bit along the side of his neck, suckled the tender flesh until he’d raised a line of hickeys over soft freckles, turning around to lay his upper body on the couch. His fingers gripped the fabric, kneading at it as he looked over his shoulder, tongue running along his upper lip at the sight of John pulling his own panties down and freeing his erection. The size differences were interesting to him. While lengthwise they were within a half inch of each other, John was thicker overall, drawing Dave’s mind to other future endeavors.

…. Hmn. Yes, indeed. There would be a future use for that if he had his way. From John’s responses, so long as he didn’t get morning guilt, it wouldn’t be an issue either. This seemed to have turned into quite an impromptu midnight date.

“Lift your skirt up for me.” He only needed the help for a moment, waiting until red tipped fingers had grabbed cloth and tugged it up high out of the way. Using his left hand to brace against Dave’s upper back, he used his right to guide his cock between his thighs, high up away from the stockings. The bracing hands moved to grip his legs, pushing them closer together until they gripped on either side of his member. An experimental movement of his hips guaranteed it wasn’t too high or low, rubbing along the sensitive skin of the blonde’s legs without hindrance. 

“Oh, fuck yeeees..” Hissing between his teeth, Dave pushed back, greedy, wanting to set a rhythm of some kind as fast as possible, teetering on the edge as it was. 

There were no words, once John began thrusting with earnest. Moans and panting, near screams of pleasure, skirts rustling and skin slapping together to the tune of the abused couch squeaking in staccato through an empty house. Then, there was nothing but heavy breathing, panting, gritting their teeth as they raced to break that peak. Dave’s hand slipped downwards to grip himself through the thin cloth of the panties, growling low in the back of his throat when he finally came, shivering. John followed not long after, ejaculating harder than he could ever remember, painting Dave’s thighs white, dripping on the carpet. Sweating, gasping for air, he slowly continued to rut in place as they both rode out their orgasms before growing still. Pulling away, he sat back on his feet, Dave staying slumped over the sofa cushions, chest heaving. 

It was nearing midnight on a Monday, home alone. Two cans of soda warmed on the kitchen counter, forgotten. They were in dresses and stockings, nails painted, barrettes in their hair. A cellphone contained images of a beautiful boy in a blue skirt, a shot of a blonde in red and black, and the beginnings of what would at first glance be an opening to sexting in the text history. They were both panting, covered in sweat and come.

They were kissing gently.

They were making plans for John to visit Dave’s very, very soon to go skirt shopping and watch movies like proper boyfriends.

**Author's Note:**

> Also found on tumblr: http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/24520824011/panties-and-panting-a-nsfw-john-dave-fic  
> I drew some art of it- http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/24656430904/standalone-of-the-art-from-my-fic-panties-and
> 
> Spotted a fan art of the boys in their dresses! http://wordgotaround.tumblr.com/post/24622129821/i-feel-a-little-bit-sorry-for-my-followers-but
> 
> Friend drew me art! - http://xurxie-do.tumblr.com/post/24869565373  
> My colored version of the above line art! - http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/25120969632/yes-finally-done-i-colored-this-from-my-friends  
> If anyone spots art of this fic, please, let me know so I can add it here!


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